


Me, Myself and Cas

by reapertownusa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Apocalypse, Drugs, M/M, One Shot, Sexual Content, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Watersports, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-06
Updated: 2011-04-06
Packaged: 2017-10-17 15:58:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/178503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reapertownusa/pseuds/reapertownusa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU of 'The End' in which Dean has some spare time in 2014. Castiel uses it to help Dean see what he sees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Me, Myself and Cas

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Drug use leading to a slight dub-con scenario and very mild watersports.

As the sun’s rays transitioned to a fiery gold, Castiel lit a candle, several in fact. He rather liked them. In many ways their flickering flames held more life than anything else in this God forsaken camp. Of course so did the twirling specks of dust dancing in front of the window. They invited a certain fascination as they floated about in search of their destiny. It was a shame that the sorry notion of destiny was nothing but a fabled myth.

He took another heavy drag from the joint held loosely in his fingers before the glistening beads in the doorway beckoned his attention. The strands swayed serenely in the early evening breeze. Past the beaded curtain he saw them. They were arguing about some long dead issue no one aside from them cared about.

They were striking, even when they were furious, maybe especially so. Fury highlighted their passion. It was the only passion his Dean retained, anger and hate, mostly for himself. With all the self-loathing they both carried, Castiel imagined that even staring at themselves they were still blind to how beautiful they were. A distant smile played along Castiel’s lips as he swept the beads aside and called to them.

“Dean?”

“What?!”

Their irritated voices sounded back in unison, both men simultaneously spinning on the heels of their boots to glare at him. A moment later guilt washed over first the younger Dean, then his. It wasn’t him they were angry at. It was themselves they hated.

The blame was wrongly placed, the fault not theirs. They had both fought beyond the point of reason for a world in which they would never find joy. These men were the all sacrificing heroes of legends. If only they could see themselves. Castiel motioned for them to join him.

“Come inside,” he said.

“Why?”

Mistrust colored his Dean’s tone, but there was no need to answer. Castiel retreated, beads clanking gently behind him. With a deep, tranquil breath he lowered himself to the floor, crossed his legs and waited. Dean had always been suspicious and rightfully so. The world had always been a cruel and frightening place to him. Even as an angel of the Lord, it was not something Castiel could explain.

There was no sense in the world taking such a strong, giving soul only to abuse and destroy it. He had used to find order in the chaos. Now he opted not to consider it. There remained one thing he was quite sure of. As suspicious as he was, Dean was also tenaciously curious.

Castiel let the heavy lids of his eyes slip closed, humming softly until at least one of them entered. “What the hell, Cas?” the sharply impatient tone confirmed that it was his Dean.

His eyes opened to see the younger version, the one who could still dream, standing directly behind himself. The difference between them was scarcely believable. Castiel had only recently been introduced to the true implications of the mortal timescale. In that, his perceptions was still more geologically tuned, in keeping with the creation and destruction of mountain ranges, not the mere blink of a human’s lifespan on earth.

He was learning and had come to know how precious - how painful - every breath could be. Even at that he found it startling to think that a few short years on earth was enough to do what over forty in hell could not.

“Sit down,” Castiel instructed with a sweep of his hand.

Crossing his arms defiantly over his chest, his Dean shook his head while his younger counterpart stepped past him. “What’s the big deal?” he asked himself. “It’s just Cas.”

The corners of Castiel’s lips tugged upwards. Just Cas. He liked that. The tone was not dismissive, but comforting, trusting. Once, Dean had taught him what it was to be human. It was Dean who had taught him how to live in this world. He wished to return the favor.

When the younger Dean sat across from him, Castiel turned his full attention to him, ignoring his Dean. It would be less than thirty seconds before his Dean grew jealous enough to surrender his stubbornness. Dean despised himself yet desperately needed to be the focal point. It gave him the reassurance he could not give himself.

With all the effort he expended to close himself off, Castiel wondered if Dean realized how exceedingly readable he was. Everything was laid bare on the surface. One only had to look to see it, but there in laid the problem. Perhaps they were both simply too physically enchanting for their own good. Outsiders looked and saw only the majesty of their physical form without caring to see the weight of the world in their eyes.

“Uh, Cas...what’s up?” the younger Dean asked.

Castiel gathered that he had been silently staring for longer than was deemed humanly comfortable. Millennia of watching without being seen made him a poor judge of comfortable gazes. He took another drag before presenting the joint to Dean. The younger man gave it a baffled look before glancing uncertainly back up to him.

“Dude, this whole hippy trip is really…trippy.” The younger man chuckled awkwardly as Castiel didn’t retract his offer. “Thanks, but I’m so not taking a hit from an angel.”

Right on cue, his Dean huffed, strode forward and snatched the joint from Castiel’s waiting fingers. “Dude, he ain’t an angel anymore.”

The younger Dean flinched at the callous words and that too made Castiel smile contentedly. In that reaction he caught another glimpse of this world’s most precious commodity – hope.

In his Dean there was only defeat as his full lips wrapped around the rolled paper. He took in a desperate inhale, but in that there was still hope. It wouldn’t be long before the tranquilizing effects hit Dean’s system.

Before Dean could think to return the joint, Castiel had already lit another via the flickering flame of the closest candle. He again presented it to the younger Dean. Not to be outdone by himself, the young man’s nimble fingers snatched it with the exact same motion his older counterpart had used. He took a too quick inhale of the earthy smoke and Castiel waited for the inevitable hacking cough that followed. Dean’s older self snorted smugly.

“Damn, it’s been a while,” Dean said once he had cleared his lungs. “And that’s enough out of you,” he added with a glare towards himself.

“Just slow down,” Castiel instructed. The advice was only partially in reference to the proper way to inhale.

As he had expected, as soon as they were both smoking it became a rivalry. Castiel chose to omit the obvious fact that both Deans’ drug tolerance would be essentially identical. He had been counting on Dean’s competitive streak.

It was not long before it became difficult to tell the two Deans apart by demeanor. They both sat casually on the floor across from him. The tension was gone from their faces with the past, present and future momentarily forgotten. For a precious moment they were not considering the weight of their fates and their easygoing laugher was far more intoxicating than the pot held between their fingers.

When they nearly were where they needed to be, his Dean squirmed. He sloppily flexed his legs before moving to stand.

“Where are you going?” Castiel asked.

“To take a piss.”

Castiel grasped his arm before he could stand. “Wait.”

“Wait for what? My bladder to explode?”

“That’s a highly unlikely scenario.”

“That’s real comforting. Now let go of my damn arm.”

“Sit,” Castiel gently ordered.

The younger Dean leaned back until he was lying on the floor, stretched languidly over the hardwood, his fingers tracing over the grains of the boards. His laughter warmed the room as he tilted his head enough to look up at himself.

“Dude, you’re waiting for a hall pass from an angel.”

In that moment Castiel saw it. His Dean’s eyes roamed the muscular expanse of his younger self, traveling the lines of the sprawled body. The younger man noticed, and smirked to himself.

“See anything you like?” the younger man teased.

“Fuck yes.”

Delight sparkled in Castiel’s eyes as he heard the appraising words. It was well past time. He watched, invisible to both men as they visually explored their own body separated by several years.

“Go ahead and go,” Castiel told his Dean. “But do it outside.”

His Dean’s brow quirked. “Yeah…I was planning on it. I’m not that high.”

“No, I mean right outside, where we can see you.”

“Kinky much?” But Dean’s eyes again fell to his younger self and must have noted the vague flash of interest there. He nodded. “Yeah...okay.”

He smirked as he took a candle with him. His stride was slightly staggered but cocky and assured. There was a grace to his movements as he parted the beads and slipped out into the now darkened night. Both Deans had taken off their boots some time ago and his bare feet moved silently over the earth.

The younger Dean rolled onto his belly to gain a better vantage point, watching himself unzip his jeans. “He really is fucking gorgeous.”

“Yes, you are,” Castiel agreed.

Thankfully neither Dean was watching him because the smile on Castiel’s lips could not be disguised. He breathed in his own pleasure as Dean made a spectacle of himself, the soft glow of the candlelight gently illuminating his strong form and confident stance.

As Dean shook himself off he sent a smug wink to himself. Even in the amber light of the room the soft flush of pink over the younger Dean’s cheeks was plainly visible. Castiel handed him another joint, which he accepted without comment, or even fully noticing that he had done it.

“See anything you like?” his Dean asked his younger self mockingly as the beads again fell closed behind him.

The younger man shrugged. “Depends.” His eyes remained too curious to be convincingly noncommittal. The joint was set between his lips as he looked himself over. “I see you tried to mess up our fine face,” he said with a nod towards the older Dean’s scarred brow. “Got any other new scars I should know about?”

“That depends on which ones I had when I was you.”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me...mine.”

“Fair enough.”

Castiel leaned back, drinking in the sight as both Deans shucked their outer shirts and stripped off their t-shirts. His attention was caught by the mirrored brands of his own hand embossed on their finely carved shoulders. It was validation that they truly were one and the same. There was only one soul that he had risen from the depths of hell. They were both his Dean.

Younger Dean hadn’t actually bothered to rise from the floor. He sat with the lids of his eyes slightly drooped, lending a dreamy tone to his distant gaze. His older self crouched behind him. There was no hesitation before possessive fingers ran over the exposed flesh. The firm brushes of skin against tender skin pulled a startled gasp from the younger man.

The sound obviously please his Dean as much as it did Castiel. Dean always had a peculiar fascination with sexual conquests, one that Castiel had finally come to embrace. It seemed that the desire to please extended to himself so long as Dean was viewing this other version of himself as a separate entity.

There was another hitched breath followed by another as Dean purposefully moved his hands to all the spots he knew were his most sensitive. Castiel took note as he watched, though he could only be content to remain a spectator for so long.

Castiel rose only to settle again behind his Dean. With a slight tentativeness his fingers probed along the same areas the man explored on his younger self. Dean shot a surprised look over his shoulder, but nearly instantly relaxed back into the sensation, feeding Castiel’s certainty. It was of genuine interest to him to see what had become of this body since he had first restored it.

“Do I got this one?” his Dean asked. His hand ran along a jagged scar that lay between the shoulder blades of the younger Dean. Castiel’s hand traced the fainter, but still present, line on the back of the Dean before him.

“Right here,” he confirmed.

He was thankful to be behind them both not only so that he was permitted to freely admire the view, but so that he was able to hide his pleased expression. The motions of Dean’s hands were no longer about scars and Dean’s shallow attempt at clinging to that pretext amused him.

“There’s that one on your thigh,” Castiel reminded his Dean.

“Oh yeah, you don’t got this one yet.”

Dean momentarily removed his hands from the younger version of himself and stood so that he could unfasten his pants and shove them down without hesitation. He stepped out of the jeans and turned his leg to catch the light of the candles and reveal the long lines of pale scar tissue.

Younger Dean grimaced. “Hellhounds?”

His older self nodded a silently grim confirmation.

Clearly wishing to push the thought aside, the younger man stumbled to his feet enough that he too could discard his own jeans. His older version knelt down before him, closely examining the perfectly unmarred leg. Reaching out, his hand ran over the smooth skin before he looked up. The corners of his lips tugged up when he found himself staring at the tented fabric of his younger self’s boxers.

The eyes lifted further to Dean’s face and the flush of pleasure on clear display there. “Damn, I look good turned on,” he remarked.

Castiel’s Dean ran his hand further up the thigh of his younger self. While they still held each other’s eyes, Dean’s hand slipped up the leg opening of the younger man's boxers and toyed his fingers at the contents.

“Son of a bitch,” the younger Dean gasped. “Don’t just sit there and tease me you bastard.”

When his Dean pulled his hand back out, his younger self whimpered at the loss of contact. His Dean didn’t waste a moment, stalking around behind himself.

“If anyone knows how to get you off, it’s you,” Dean assured himself. From behind the younger man he reached for the hem of the man's boxers. “But you sure as hell better be planning on returning the favor.”

Hooking his thumbs in the waistband, his Dean slid the fabric barrier from his younger self’s hips. There was complete familiarity when Dean took what was essentially his own cock firmly into his hands. By the haze that came over the younger Dean’s eyes it was quite apparent that Dean was even more familiar with the pressure points of this particular portion of his anatomy.

Castiel again allowed himself a moment of simply observing before he also stood. His Dean this time showed no surprise, simply groaning his gratitude as Castiel slid down his boxers and took him into his hands, again mimicking Dean’s own actions. Their movements fell into unison, both Deans’ pleasured moans perfectly coinciding.

The only difference was that Castiel removed his hand from his Dean’s cock before brining him to completion. For a brief moment Dean did not seem to notice, instead focused on viewing the trembling ecstasy of his younger version coming against him. By the time he did notice he was so desperate for release he didn’t question Castiel’s guiding hand, which brought him to his knees.

Likewise the younger Dean was still riding the endorphins of his orgasm and let Castiel ease him to the ground so that he was lying on his back in front of his older self. In those gorgeously dazed and unusually trusting eyes Castiel was again allowed a rare glimpse of the beauty this world had to offer.

He eased the younger man’s knees to rest against his chest. The younger Dean obediently held the position while Castiel traced down the curves of the stunningly exposed rear. He removed his hand only long enough to bring his fingers to his mouth, moistening them thoroughly with his own saliva before pressing against the waiting opening.

The younger man jumped at the sensation, internal muscles clenching. Castiel patiently waited for the spasming to pass. His Dean was far less patient, his breath rapid and shallow.

“No fair cutting,” Dean breathlessly complained.

“I told you to slow down,” Castiel reminded him. He saw the man’s hand moving towards his cock and brushed it away. “Just watch him.”

Following Castiel’s order, his Dean focused his eyes on the younger version of himself that was presented exposed before him. Castiel’s finger pushed further into the younger man. His every muscle tensed at the foreign entry, the warmth of his inner muscles clamping tightly around Castiel’s finger. While Castiel reveled in the intimacy, his Dean reveled in the sight of himself embracing the stimulation.

“Dude, I know why the chicks dig us.”

The gentle smile on Castiel’s lips spread and he further manipulated his finger. He worked against the taught internal muscles until he was confident that any pain involved would fall within Dean’s classification of intense, but acceptable. For someone who considered himself to be so unforgivably weak, Castiel had never encountered another soul capable of enduring so much.

When he again looked to his Dean he saw that the man was on the verge of losing control. Castiel moved out of his way and allowed him full access to his waiting younger counterpart. Dean inched forward, placing himself between the tucked forward legs. He spit on his hand to moistened his cock before placing his hands firmly on the softly shaking thighs of his younger self.

“I’m gonna do you so good I’m gonna feel it.”

Dean slowly, but firmly pushed into himself. His movements were tentative at first as he gauged the reactions on his younger version’s face. It was only a short moment of trial and error before his inherent sexual confidence again rose to the surface and the movements became certain.

As Dean road himself Castiel moved to make sure that his Dean would indeed feel it. His finger went on to once again prep Dean. The man made no acknowledgement of his presence aside from ragged moans of approval. It was more than he asked.

He carefully entered Dean and nearly instantly realized it as a mistake. It was highly unlikely that he would be able to return to his standard orgy fare after this. While the pleasure of Dean’s physicality begged his eyes to close and experience if fully, he was too enthralled with the sight before him.

From his vantage point within Dean he saw both versions of the man lock eyes with each other. For once it was not disdainful, but appraising. In the morning they may hate him, but Castiel reveled in the fact that Dean would have one less reason to hate himself.


End file.
